I Trace Our Names in Water
by Vieux
Summary: Where Sena has someone else. But even after moving past his stage of denial, Kakei can do nothing but dip his fingers in the water of his tears and trace four familiar letters in a messy scrawl. Angst (ish) with a happy ending. T for language / Edited.


**A/N: Sorry, I'm in the mood to write angst for some reason, so this came out. Fun fact- this used to be Sena x Akaba until I realized that I couldn't write good angst for Akaba xP I'm generally a pretty crappy angst writer so we'll see how this goes (: Enjoy~**

Pairing: ? x Sena, one sided Kakei x Sena

Title: I trace our names in water

Summary: Where Sena has someone else; even when he's past his denial, Kakei can do nothing but dip his fingers in the water of his tears.

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Kakei was at an all-time _high_.

So yes, maybe he had to put up with a loud Mizumachi making horrid, obnoxious comments.

And yes, maybe he was forced to sit across from a demonic Hiruma who kept coincidentally reaching for the pepper at the _exact same time_ as he did and then cackling evilly when Kakei flinched at the sharpness of the devil's nails.

And _yes_ , maybe he listened to Akaba's cacophonous guitar riffs and absolutely bizarre musical metaphors throughout the entire meal, trying to distract himself with his rice.

But sitting right next to the most adorable creature with the largest, most soulful brown eyes Kakei had ever seen made every single ghastly moment worth the pain (even if his left hand was probably dripping crimson dribbles of blood from Hiruma's nails and his ears were dying, mostly deaf from the combined Mizumachi-Akaba auditory torture).

It was even better when they had both reached for the _same cup of water_ , fingers brushing and sending sparks shooting up Kakei's spine, leaving tingling sensations in his cheeks.

 _He was not blushing._

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Sometimes Kakei couldn't tell if he was warm or cold.

The crisp fall air bit and nipped at the skin of his cheeks, but deep inside he was burning up, as if a sun was located right in the middle of his core. And Kobayakawa Sena was _definitely not_ that sun.

But still…

Exiting the restaurant, Kakei made sure to hold the door for a certain brunette who was walking behind him. The chimes swung and tinkled faster than his heart was beating (which, given his slight dizziness and the feverish glow in his eyes, was saying something). He stared- wait no, _glanced_ at the way Sena stepped, feet tapping lightly against the cold grey concrete of the sidewalk.

He could still remember the beginning, their first meeting- the indecisive shuffling, the stuttering, the blinking.

His eyes traveled up from Sena's shoes to his fuzzy Maroon hoodie, past his jean-clad legs. Moving higher, towards the warm blue and white scarf that was wrapped around his neck.

The boy was absolutely adorable.

Even when something cold and metallic pressed into the middle of his back- when Hiruma's cackling voice called at him to get a move on and to stop eye-raping the Deimon Devil Bat's running back.

Yes, even when Kakei was fighting off an embarrassed flush, or when he was being stared down by a somewhat over-protective 'brother' (Riku), Kobayakawa Sena was still absolutely- _not_ adorable.

Hiruma smirked- denial was a bitch.

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For the first time in his life Kakei was drowning.

Drowning, not in water. Not in liquid. Not in fluid. In his torrent of wild rampant emotions stampeding through his heart faster and harder than the Seibu Coach's rodeo bull. Failure of his lungs and respiratory system hopefully sets in faster than cardiac arrest does.

Clearly one adorable (he admitted it now) Kobayakawa Sena was oblivious to the emotions of one Kakei Shun, but evidently _not_ obvlivious or apathetic to the emotions of a certain well-muscled Ojo white knight.

Kakei watched them together, holding hands and blushing. He despised how well the _other boy's_ cool bluntness harmonized with Sena's refreshing innocence. Wait, harmonized? Lord, he was turning into Akaba, god dammit.

His mind was filled with images of them walking next to each other, holding hands, touching shoulders, _brushing lips_ \- no, Kakei refused to believe that they'd done anything down _that_ alley yet, because _he_ was the protagonist, and Kobayakawa Sena's first kiss was going to come from _him_.

Him, and no one else.

And yet, lying in his bed at night, blue sheets draped over pale skin, Kakei was drowning. The last text he received from Hiruma wasn't helping either- a photo of two certain people standing under a maple tree, _kissing_.

(To be fair, it could have been edited, he definitely wouldn't put it beyond Hiruma)

The red, gold, and orange colors made him want to throw up, but he preferred them over the tall boy with dark hair standing next to _his_ Sena.

During class, Kakei drowned too. His bookbag weighed him down physically, but nothing was heavier than the burden of… was it love? Or mere affection?

His hands didn't slice through water, or tear at the liquid; they clenched tight in his practice jersey, scrabbling frantically at the large '41' on his football jersey.

Practice became his only lifeline- hopefully the thread wouldn't snap.

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There were good days, and there were bad.

Some days, he slipped on a vizard, a mask, and simply _pretended_. But really, Hiruma's scathing comments on his shitty acting abilities didn't make him feel any better.

Other days, he slipped on a poker face- not that it was much different from his usual expression in the first place. Listening to Akaba's obnoxious new song playing in a bar didn't help his mood- drowning was bad, but drowning in a melody of tears was worse.

Kakei bit his lip, awkwardly curling the flexible black phone cord around his ring finger. But really, he should call it a fourth finger- would there _ever_ be a ring on it?

"Kakei-kun? Is that you calling?"

Lord, even his _voice_ was sweet, melting Kakei's insides like cotton candy in the arid summer heat.

He cleared his unreasonably dry throat. "…Do you want to grab dinner?"

Kakei pretended not to hear the very very pregnant pause, or the muffled voices on the other end of the line when he hung up, not waiting for a reply.

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It was one of the good days.

Kakei was standing outside a decently nice restaurant (as nice as he could afford, at any rate), donned in a dark navy scarf. Waiting. Waiting, for someone.

And for the first time, he felt so ridiculously _proud_ of his progress- because if someone else asked, he was definitely going to tell them that he was having dinner with a certain special someone. Finally he could… _blush_ and insist that it was _not_ a date. Not a date.

"Kakei-kun!"

He turned around, and smiled.

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Lord, this was awkward.

Kakei tried not to make his fingers clench at the white fancy table cloth. He could practically see what was going to happen.

And he felt all the puzzle pieces of reality slipping through his fingers, falling between the cracks and sinking down- deeper, darker, deader. Because apparently one Kobayakawa Sena, despite having called back later to confirm the dinner, had decided to bring someone with him.

Someone with an Ojo uniform and a _blue and white scarf_.

Someone with raven black hair, and well-defined cheekbones.

Someone with a well-built body and dark eyes.

Someone named Shin Seijuro.

Drumming his fingers hollowly, Kakei perused over the menu, wondering whether he should order the Pollo al Bicicletta Veloce, or the Chicken Piccatta.

"Sena, I believe you should order the Vitello al Funghi. The Pollo al Bicicletta Veloce does not contain a nutritious balance between meat and vegetables, while the Chicken Piccatta is too creamy for efficient digestion before we go to dinner."

Brown eyes blinked innocently, and an adorable head tilted slightly to the right. "Alright… if Seijuro says so."

Well fuck.

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The thread snapped.

And somewhere along the line, Kakei felt that his string of sanity had as well, whether it be in between raking his fingers through his hair and tensing his elbows at even the slightest touch, or between gripping the cold glass liquor bottle in his clammy, trembling hands and then having it taken away in a whirl of blonde hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders.

 _Kakei, you need to stop_ \- the words echo emptily in his head, traveling in one ear and out the next. Hell, even Mizumachi, the most unaware, oblivious bastard in the universe was hunched over him, hands firmly gripping his shoulders in concern.

He didn't know if he was mad with love, or in love with madness.

The burning shower water trailed in ribbons down his legs, mixing with the salty water of _something_ \- _not tears_.

No way were they _tears_.

His eyes didn't cry, but his heart did- it cried for the happy ending that _he was supposed to get_ because _he was the protagonist_. It cried for Kobayakawa Sena. It cried for him to _get a life_.

And sitting in the bathtub he traced four letters delicately over and over on the blue bathroom tiles.

S-E-N-A

He watched the letters become deformed, their essence and shape dribbling down only to vanish like ice cream out of its natural freezing temperature habitat.

Because at the end of the day, that was all he could do- trace a name with the water of his _tears_.

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"Yo yo yo, Kakeiiiii!" Certain blonde idiots apparently never learned their lesson even after graduating from university. Wait, did the bastard even _graduate_?

"Do you need anything, Mizumachi?" He resisted the urge to sneer.

"Awhh, don't be like that, Kakeiiii…" The blonde pouted, slinging a sweaty arm around Kakei's shoulder. "So you graduated already?"

He nodded in affirmative. "Yes. I did."

"Art major?"

Kakei sighed. "Yes, is there a point to this… interrogation? You know all this."

He should have seen the sly grin. He should have anticipated what was coming.

"So, Are you an interior decorator? Because today when I saw you, the entire room suddenly became beautiful," Mizumachi cheerfully declared.

 _Did he just…?_ Probably not. It was Mizumachi they were talking about after all- he probably accidentally spurted a load of nonsensical bullshit. Kakei yawned. "No, not an interior decorator. Far from it, in fact."

"Awh. Not close? Photography then."

Kakei scowled. How did the idiot guess? "Maybe."

"Ha, you're wondering how I guessed, aren't you."

"No." He lost this round, and they both knew it. The very fact he was responding was evidence enough to prove it.

"Well, _I'm_ not a photographer, but even I can picture you and me together."

Kakei gaped. "Did you just-"

"Are you a camera yourself? Because every time I look at you, I smile."

Kakei shook off his surprise and _tried_ to suppress the flush that _may or may not_ have started creeping up his neck towards his cheeks. "Shut up, you smile at everyone."

"Oh, so it would be ok if you were the only camera- I mean, person- I smiled at?"

"Mizumachi."

"Ah, I didn't know you were that possessive, how-"

" _Mizumachi_."

"Hm?"

"…What are you doing?"

"I graduated too, you know."

"Surprisingly." The word slipped out between his lips before he could stop it. Not that he would have. Probably.

Awkward silences had become a thing apparently.

"…Come on, aren't you even going to ask?" His voice was slightly on the whiny side.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah, but not until we get dinner," Mizumachi declared.

"Wait-"

"I prepared everything. Aren't you proud of me?"

"But-"

"Come _on_."

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So maybe Kakei took a weird twisted pleasure in letting himself be dragged away by the tall blonde idiot.

Or maybe he felt morbidly glad that the restaurant _wasn't_ Italian- and that wasn't just because of his preference for German cuisine.

To fill the once again awkward silence on their drive there, he casually turned to the other boy. "So, you made the reservation right?" And then found himself snapped back into his seat by his seatbelt when the brake was slammed down hard. "God, don't tell me you forgot."

"…"

"Fuck, you did, didn't you?"

"…" Suddenly, he looked up. "Well, it's just waiting for a restaurant table. I'd wait until marriage for you."

Kakei tipped his head back and laughed for the first time in awhile. "Good save," he admitted, pulling out a silver VIP card and tossing it to the blonde. "Call them under my name, I've been there."

And the bright grin was probably worth the fact that he would now have to pay off all the debts on the ancient, barely-used VIP card (culminated over 5 years, they probably weren't light). So maybe he didn't need that Italian Restaurant membership anymore.

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 **A/N: Yes, I know… Angst with a happy ending :P I have a thing for happy endings so yes. Anyways, it wasn't** _ **really**_ **angst I guess? I dunno.**


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